Night Court

Fred Hilderman is charged with operating

an illegal vehicle down the West Side Highway.

Your Honor, the defendant was caught driving this to work

in an attempt to make his morning commute "radical."

We ask for leniency, as this vehicle

is far less annoying than those Bird scooters.

Surprised you feel that way.

You love watching people fall off things.

As for you, $200 fine and traffic school.

Sorry to burst your bubble.

Wait. You don't have any horrible diseases, do you?

Too old. Too small.

Oh! Those bushes are out of control.

What dating app are you on?

I'm looking at real-estate listings.

I've only found one place above 63rd in my price range.

It was a middle bunk in a hostel,

and I lost it to a Saudi prince.

Today just keeps getting better.

I rescued a cab from an old man trying to wave it down.

Then I heard a barista say, "Deb."

I thought, "Close enough." Free coffee!

Now I find out you can't afford an apartment near mine?

Nothing can ruin this day.

Uh, Dan, your clients

in the next case wanted to talk to you.

Mr. Fielding! We meet again.

If I don't turn around...

are they really there?

Bob and June Wheeler.

What the hell? It's not even raining.

The Wheelers! My dad told me all about them.

They're the two unluckiest people

to ever step foot in this courtroom.

And that includes the guy who drove a truck full of black cats

through the world's largest mirror.

Unlucky? Really? Pbht.

What a bunch of superstitious bull--

Okay. That was inside thunder.

Check out this evidence for the next case!

The cops busted a black-market sound-effects ring.

It's gonna be a fun night.

Well, after 30 years,

this place hasn't changed one bit.

Judge Stone. You look the same.

I am really excited to meet you.

I know you guys look like the Great Depression,

but you make me so happy.

The charge is animal hoarding.

It all started when our Great-Grandma Wheeler

recently died.

I'm sorry.

Your great-grandmother recently died?

Yes.

Our bad grandma is still with us.

As someone who has heard your stories before,

could we skip the next, I don't know, three calamities

and get to the point?!

Granny left us a Manhattan townhouse,

a charming two-bed, two-bath,

and haunted as the day is long.

Those poor ghosts.

Luckily, we knew how to get rid of them suckers.

Sacrifice a sheep.

But when we got the sheep, we fell in love with him.

It was just friend love.

We couldn't kill him. So we got another sheep.

And then we fell in love with that sheep, too.

That happened another 74 times.

At least we think it was 74.

Every time we try counting them, we fall asleep.

Can a lawyer plead insanity?

Your Honor, for what it's worth, the home

was actually certified haunted by...

"Jovan the Psychic."

Shut the front door!

Jovan is the most respected psychic in New York!

It takes four years to book a session with her!

Unless you're dead. Then she's got all the time in the world.

Objection! The law does not recognize the paranormal.

And these two definitely aren't a "pair of normal."

$500 fine. And get those sheep to a farm.

Just don't count and drive.

I can't believe I saw the Wheelers!

Can't believe I saw the Wheelers.

Hey, Wyatt, whenever you get a chance,

could you get me their contact information?

I thought you stopped sending edible arrangements

to everyone you convict after that study showed

it led to a rise in crime.

Violence is down since I switched to cookie cakes.

I want to ask the Wheelers to put me in touch with Jovan.

Their psychic? Oh, come on.

You don't believe in all that nonsense.

I think there's a lot that can't be explained--

ghosts, psychics...

how Diane Lane is still a smokeshow.

There are secret stores for rich people.

How many times do I have to tell you that?

I'm with the judge on this.

Diane Lane? Mwah!

And also the universe is full of mysteries.

It's not all black-and-white.

Yeah, like people can be green or red.

If she starts saying crazy stuff, I take back my support.

It's called synesthesia.

Whenever I meet someone, I see them as a color.

Like Gurgs is a Green, and you two are Reds.

Red? Seems, uh, not great.

No offense. - None listened.

The colors don't mean anything. They're totally random.

Like, Gandhi is a Green, and Stalin is a Red.

Gandhi and Stalin don't seem random!

You know, I knew your father believed in all this hocus pocus,

but I was kind of hoping it skipped the generation.

My dad was into magic tricks,

but he didn't believe in anything supernatural.

Debating it turned into a little hobby for us.

Some kids go with their parents to baseball games

and argue "Mets versus Yankees."

My dad and I would go to haunted houses and psychics

and argue "real versus grift."

We're actually still debating it.

Still?

Before he died, we made a deal.

If I could find a psychic who would repeat the secret phrase

that only my dad and I knew,

it would prove there really was more out there.

Yeah, well, I got to say, I like the idea

of family arguments going into eternity.

What I would give to yell in Mom's face just one more time.

So far, no psychic has gotten it right.

And, believe me, I've tried.

But Jovan is supposed to be the best.

And I think the Wheelers are my way in.

Oh, the Wheelers are your way into only two things--

a Ponzi scheme or a building that's about to collapse...

during a sheep orgy.

Hey, has the judge done that thing where she tells you--

I'm a Green. Olivia's a Red.

So I'm a Dan, a Stalin, and an Olivia?

- It doesn't mean anything. - Of course you'd say that.

You're the good one.

Maybe there is something to it.

I'm a cursed Red!

And that's why I can't find an apartment

that I don't have to share with the cats who legally own it.

How dare you joke about curses when you know

I was given one by an ex-boyfriend

who is also a practicing witch.

Gurgs, we've been over this. You are not cursed.

Then how do you explain that every time I'm in line,

it's the bad one?

Airport security. Grocery store.

Remember that log-flume explosion?

Two hours to make it to the front, then, boom, no flume.

Any luck getting in touch with the Wheelers?

Not really.

On their intake form, under "phone number,"

they wrote "Big fire."

And their e-mail address is

Wheelers3{russian-scam.scam.

Gotta figure out a way to smoke 'em out.

What if I get some glasses,

dust off my German accent, and post an ad as...

Dr. Glossheimer, a grief therapist

for people who lost zheir fluffy white sheep?

Good idea. Now...

try it with the accent.

Or you could just look over zair.

Do you sell bird repellent?

When we left the courthouse,

we were descended upon by a vengeful murder of crows.

They flew us several blocks

before we successfully broke free.

I hope my robe doesn't make me look too much like a crow.

- Aah! - Oh, no! Not again!

You found us guilty,

so I'm afraid we can't help you with Jovan.

Like the crow, Bob is quite vengeful.

Also like the crow,

I've got the problem-solving skills of a third grader.

I really need to talk to her,

and I'm willing to do whatever it takes...

although I'd like to keep my organs.

Any wiggle room on the kidneys?

It's just that they're really in there.

You could babysit our little Carol Ann for a few days

while we relocate our sheep.

Sure. In high school, I was the most popular babysitter

in Skaneateles...

after that show-off St. Bernard who could dial 911!

Carol Ann! Get in here!

That is more baby than I'm used to sitting.

So, did she say she'd give me a kidney?

She ain't sick. She just likes playing with 'em.

Ho! Your Honor.

How did you get to work? Did you roll here?

It was kind of a rough day.

Babysitting in Manhattan is way different than upstate.